The next morning, Garinor and Song awoke with the rest of the camp. The day started with usual routines, but then things became more serious.
“Chief is holding to your warning,” Song said. “He wants us all ready for battle today. He’s doubled the number of sentries to look for the prince’s troops and I’m sure it won’t be long before we’re engaged with them in earnest. I don’t want you to be nervous or mad, but I have to tell you something.”
“What’s that?”
“Chief commandeered your horse. He gave it to one of the sentries so she could get back to us with haste.”
“What!”
Song laid a hand on Garinor’s shoulder. “I know. He should have at least asked you about it, but he acted in the best interest of us Daggerfists. We’ve all lost people close to us through this, you see. And sometimes he’s a little cold when it comes to defending us. I’m sorry, Garinor.”
He looked down at the ground and shook his head. “I guess there isn’t anything I can do about it, is there, Song?”
“No, not really, I’m afraid. But you don’t need to fight with us. You can take refuge if you want to. Even Chief wouldn’t begrudge you that.”
Garinor looked up then. “Where will you be?”
He smiled. “In the thick of it, like always. I’d be a bit of a fraud if I didn’t try to live out some of the things I sing.”
“If you’re fighting, then I will too.”
“You’ve never been in a battle before, have you?”
“No. But my friends and I have played at it a lot.”
Song sighed. “It isn’t even close to the same, Garinor. But I see that fire in your eye. So let’s get you something you can swing at the enemy.” He brought Garinor over to a supply tent and rummaged around until he found a short sword that would suit Garinor’s height and strength. “Here you are.”
They then spent the next hour sparring so Garinor could get a feel for the sword. Song spent most of the time instructing Garinor in defensive maneuvers, insisting that his only goal was to keep himself alive in his first battle. “Just think of the fugue I would have to sing if something happened to you, so keep yourself safe at all costs.” He pulled a golden chain with a fist clutching a dagger out from his shirt and showed it to Garinor, who thought it seemed oddly familiar. “If we get separated, find someone with one of these. They’ll protect you.”
“Don’t worry, Song, you’ll be able to sing of victory today.”
The young man smiled back at him.
One of the sentries entered the area and sought out Chief, who then rallied the others into a strict formation. Orders were called out gruffly and Garinor could see that the man was well-respected for his leadership and that his plans seemed sound.
Thus, when the prince’s army crested the hill, the battle was met with an organized brilliance. The few archers launched their volleys into the enemy forces, but soon the chaos was complete, and the scene lit into a furious melee.
Song stayed close to Garinor through the fighting. They spent most of their time back to back, beating away the prince’s forces and deterring them. Garinor concentrated on defense like he was told, but some of those measures led him to strike out as well. He bloodied his sword on a few unfortunate men, but he tried not to think about it.
As he fought back against the constant flow of soldiers, a new sight appeared that distracted Garinor greatly. He saw, upon a horse and wearing flashy clothes, the prince himself, slashing with a long sword into the fray and dealing deadly jabs to those he encountered. Garinor was horrified when he realized that some of those attacks were delivered from behind to unsuspecting victims who didn’t even have a chance to defend themselves.
Something inside Garinor snapped. He released a primal cry and darted off, sword flailing madly as he went. He cut down several men on his way toward the oblivious prince, who was intent in another battle and was subsequently unseated from his horse. Garinor scrambled angrily ahead, tears clouding his vision at all the carnage around him, knowing that his own actions were adding to it, but also certain that the prince needed to be stopped at once.
He reached the prince just as the man dealt a fatal wound to his combatant. Garinor shrieked with rage again and swung his sword with all his might. The prince spun about and parried the careless attack, kicking out with one foot and smashing Garinor in the face. Shocked, Garinor lost his grip on his sword and it went flying away. He didn’t hesitate, however. He barreled forward and bashed his head into the prince’s stomach, knocking the wind out of him. He, too, lost his weapon.
The two of them fell to fisticuffs, swinging wildly about and wrestling on the ground. Everything else faded away and Garinor was unaware of what was happening nearby. Shouts and cries of pain sounded like they were miles off, drifting on a sullen breeze, meant for someone else’s ears. His attention was wholly focused on stopping the man underneath him, on putting an end to the horrible hunt that had kept Garinor moving since he was taken from his home.
He had no idea when the tide of battle had changed, but he was wrenched off the prince and thrown to the ground. Around him the chaos subsided. A group of the prince’s men had been in hiding and they came into the battlefield and overtook the wearied fighters, casting favor easily in the prince’s direction.
Garinor didn’t have time to take in the setting, however, for Song was there, grabbing him and thrusting him up onto the prince’s horse. Song then pulled himself up behind Garinor, clinging on tightly.
With a last glance at the failed battle, they sprinted off.